The Angel's Laments
by Ethereal-Aria
Summary: It is cruel, you know, that music should be so beautiful. It has the beauty of loneliness and of pain: of strength and freedom. The beauty of disappointment and never satisfied love. A collection of EC One Shots.
1. Because of You

**Disclaimer:**The following characters in the following storydo not belong to me and sadly never will no matter what I may want dearly or do. They belong to the geinuses that we all know by Mr. Webber and Mr. Leroux. Though in this case, I believe that it applies better to Mr. Leroux.

**Author's Note:** Hello dearest readerswho even bothered to chose this story to read. I am really and truly honored to have been chosen among all the other wonderful fanfiction out there and I sincerely hope that this piece will please you and be well worth your time. This is the first chapter out of the many more to come of my E/C themed One Shots andSongfics. I love this pairing and hope to make it as realistic and satisfying as possiblefor you.I hope you like this first chapter enough to read more of my story as it comes. This chapter is about Christine after she has left Erik and how she feels about him and what he has done to her. Hope you enjoy!

_**Because of You**_

The midnight breeze blew a soft breath upon the lovely, porcelain skin of Christine Daae, whistling a soprano's tune, it rustled her locks of warm brown cascading down her back, deepening the shade of a faint rosy blush upon her cheeks, and making the lone tear running down her face shimmer from both the glimmer of the moon and the wind.

_I will not make the same mistakes that you did  
I will not let myself cause my heart so much misery _

Sitting upon a worn, ancient, and slightly damp bench deep in one of the many parks in Paris, late into the night, she sat dejectedly on her seat of cold wood, the moisture of the rain still clinging to the bench from the day before spreading to the cloth of her thin dress, making her shiver suddenly. A loose, ill fitting coat of a washed out navy and of a masculine design was draped lazily around her slight, delicate shoulders, exposed in a neckline that plunged daringly in the back and that tastefully revealed brief flashes of the creamy flesh near her neck and upper arms. Her beautiful face, sunken into a portrait of grief and infinite sadness, suited not her bright personnality of many years ago. Before him... Erik...

_I will not break, the way you did, you fell so hard  
I've learned the hard way to never let it get that far_

Letting her head hang in a moment of unbearable memories, she gasped hollowly, fighting back those tears she'd refused to let out, smoothing back a stray stray curl with an annoyed hand, judging the lock an interferance in her current thoughts. He'd had no right. He'd had no right at all to do what he'd done to her. Made her suffer in a way that no-one should. Made her doubt everything she did. Made sure as to that she would ever be sure of anything again...

_  
Because of you I never strayed to far from the sidewalk  
Because of you I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt _

Before she'd known, before she'd actually learned the truth about him, she'd loved him with everything a young girl could muster. Her guardian Angel, her Angel of Music, the only thing of her father that she could cling to anymore. She'd lived for him, he'd been her whole life. The only thing good in her life anymore. How he'd cared for her and made her feel as if she was loved. That was all before she knew him. Erik.

_Because of you I find it hard to trust, not only me,  
but everyone around me, Because of you, I am afraid_

She'd loved him. Oh yes, she'd loved him. Before she knew him. Not as an Angel, not as a father, but as a man. Something real, something attainable, something she could acutally see and have. He was wonderful as an Angel but not as a man. The way he'd loved her... The way he'd tried to show how much he cared... He didn't seem capable of showing emotion in a human way. He simply did everything in his power for her to love him and that had strangely driven her away. Everything in his power was not enough. Erik had never had anything...

_  
I lose my way, and its not too long before you point it out  
I cannot cry, because I know that's weakness in your eyes _

He cried. Oh, how he cried whenever sonething displeased her or something did not go his way. He shed every tear in his tiny, frail body, he sobbed every sob his weak and delicate heart could manage, and yet he still couldn't rid his being of the misery contained in that skeletal, miniscule frame. Perhaps it was fathomless... His pain... She was never allowed to cry. Christine was never allowed to cry in front of Erik. Whenever tears coursed down her perfect cheeks he willed and begged of her to stop not bearing to see his Angel weep but if he should be able to cry, why not Christine?

_  
I'm forced to fake a smile, a laugh, every day of my life  
My heart can't possibly break, when it wasn't even whole to start with _

_  
_So she feigned contempt. She smiled at Erik whenever he would dare to meet her eyes. She would smile a smile of forced cheeriness, disgust and pity the real emotions behind her smiles. Erik would never know. He'd never received smiles. She'd embrace the poor man, knowing that he would never see her her eyes tightly shut. She'd try to create his happiness, even if it was only a lie...

_  
I watched you die, I heard you cry, every night in your sleep.  
I was so young, you should have known better than to lean on me._

Why had he thrust all of his problems on her? Why had he weighed down her young spirit with all of his torment? Why had he made her suffer along with him? Had he even a clue to what he'd done? Had he remained still completely oblivious to all the pain and damage he inflicted on others without even noticing? Perhaps old, Erik retained that infuriating naivety of a child, never even thinking how what he did could possibly affect others. Perhaps he'd retained that, in order to actually experience his childhood. A childhood, a pleasant childhood, he'd never gotten... How could she have supported all of his tortured past? A young girl of only sixteen, her entire life ahead of her, burdened by the memories and agnonies of the pitiful, rejected man who'd never been loved. Who could never be loved... She'd tried to comfort him, tried to soothe the demons in his heart, tame the beast in him only music could. There was no way, no way on this Earth, that anyone, anyone at all, could help poor Erik anymore... No matter how hard he tried...

_  
You never thought of anyone else you just saw your pain.  
And now I cry in the middle of the night, doin the same damn thing _

_  
_Did he even think about how it would affect the stricken Christine? Had he even thought about the woman he supposedly loved and how he'd forever marred her once innocent heart; marked and scarred by the grief and woe of his memories, thrown at her violently in a desperate attempt to release them. He never thought, he'd never thought to. She hated him. She hated him for what he'd done to her. Changed her, etched out a definite imprint on her soul, never to be the same again... And yet, she still... loved him.

_  
Because of you I never strayed too far from the sidewalk  
Because of you I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt _

He was always there for her. He'd assured her everything she'd ever wanted. He had given her love, a surrogate father, life to music again. He'd brought music back into her life. He'd shed new light and breathed love into music. Music... the key to her heart. Music, the only truth left in the world, the only thing that truly bared the soul. He'd given her that. He'd given her love. A love of immesurable proportions, a love of burning adoration... a love of frightening obssession.

_  
Because of you I try my hardest just to forget everything  
Because of you I don't know how to let anyone else in _

_  
_She wanted to love someone else, anyone else. Anyone but him. She'd tried. She'd thought that she'd loved another, left Erik for him... She couldn't. She couldn't love him. Not after Erik. No-one could love after being cursed with his love. She didn't want to love him... But she didn't. She didn't love Erik... And yet she couldn't love anymore. Once you'd been loved by him, you cannot love anyone at all. She couldn't love him and she woudn't love him... but she wouldn't love anyone else.

_  
Because of you I'm ashamed of my life, because its empty  
Because of you, I am afraid _

_  
_No-one anymore. She wouldn't have anyone. She would be alone until the end of her days, alone without anyone to love her, anyone for her to love. It was better that way. She couldn't love anymore... because she was afraid to...

_  
Because of you...  
Because of you..._

Christine Daae tilted her magnificent head back to face the sky, a despairing sob being set free from the confines of her throat. Tears slid down her cheeks, tiny orbs of that saltine liquid embedding themselves in her thick eyelashes, glistening with splendour in the glow of the moonlit park. Hugging herself tightly, she tried to will away all the memories, thoughts, dreams, and nightmares of him, shutting her eyes decisively.

She didn't love him.

Didn't she?

**A/N**: Thank you for reading! Please do review and tell me what you think. It would mean so very much to me.:)


	2. I Can't Make You Love Me

**Disclaimer:** All the wonderful characters in this story do unfortunately not belong to me. Although I may wish everyday that I did in fact own an Erik, I sadly do not. Erik and Christine both belong to Mr. Leroux and Mr. Webber. Though in this case, more specifically, Mr. Leroux. All lyrics to the following song do not belong to me either, nor did they belong to me in the last song. The lyrics in this song belong to the lovely Mrs. Bonnie Raitt.

**Author's Note:** To all those who reviewed for my last chapter, thank you ever so much! Wow, I didn't expect such nice comments!This chapter is based on Leroux and loosely based upon the end and how Erik decided to let Christine go back to Raoul. I've changed a couple of things so if this isn't exactly how you remember it to be in the book, it's alright. It's my fault... :D

_**I Can't Make You Love Me**_

_Turn down the lights, turn down the bed,  
Turn down these voices inside my head ..._

"Christine...?" I murmured shyly, my voice soft and frightened, threatening to crack at any moment in time, so weak and broken... just like her gaze. Tilting my head inquisitively, not daring to move my head too quickly or too much, afraid even to disturb the heavy silence overhanging the room like a heavy and thick fog, I didn't shift from my position, curled up against the couch of coal materiel, my arms wrapping self-consciously around my kness and my shoulders in a constant shrug as if trying to protect myself from what she might say next.

"Yes, Erik...?" she responded quietly, not raising her eyes to meet mine, nor budging from her spot on the chair on the opposite side of the room, her hands clenched together, fingers intertwined, dangling without a purpose between her legs, leaning forward and focusing blankly upon an unknown spot on the floor that she had been fixated upon for quite some time now.

_Lay down with me, tell me no lies ,  
Just hold me close, don't patronize - don't patronize..._

"Could I... Could I p-please ask you to-to... come h-here?" I stuttered, forbidden tears of shame and self-loathing burning my eyes threateningly, as I avoided my gaze momentarily, "Please...?" I muttered, looking up at her slowly with amber eyes sparkling in adoration and despair. My mouth slightly agape in anticipation of her response, shallow, nervous breaths whistled through my lips in muffled gusts.

Finally, she glanced up slowly, allowing me to see the tears that had coursed down her cheeks and that sparkled in the golden glow of candlelight. Her iris' scintillated also, many more of her tears still unshed glistening in the warm light. Seeing those delicate beads of water filled with her sadness and grief only made me ache more. Uncertain for moments, her graceful eyebrows furrowed, then lessened as she gave a half-hearted nod and ran a dainty hand over her cheeks to chase away the tears.

Raising herself from the seat silently, she walked hesitantly across the room and reluctantly sat herself next to me, the presence of her slight body so close to mine sending shivers coursing down my spine and a sharp intake of breath passed my lips.

Not being able to find the courage to look at her, I stared ahead, not really focusing upon anything in particular, not bearing to look into those beautiful eyes and see all the pain that I had caused... "Christine...?" I asked again, stumbling upon her name, "Could you... please, hold me...?" I choked out, my voice strangled. 

Cause I can't make you love me if you don't,  
You can't make your heart feel something it won't...

I heard her head turn in my direction, heard the sound of her curls rustling as they did in movement, the sound of her breathing come closer to my ear, the feel of her breaths painting brief strokes of warmth upon my cold skin, the feel of her eyes focusing intently on me. "Erik..." she breathed, the tone of uncomprehension and reluctance in her voice apparent.

"Please, Christine?" I asked, my voice breaking, a desperate pitch drencing my vocal cords, "Please?" I whispered, glancing up fearfully to meet her azure gaze.

Her eyes darkened visibly, the clear, pristine shade of aquamarine gradually retreating into a shade of stormy water as she met my eyes of topaz Still, she and I continued to lock eyes and I knew that I never wanted to look away for fear that she would never again look into my eyes with the same concentration and intensity. Lowering her eyelids for a short second, indicating her assent, she then proceeded to curl her fragile arms around me, one arm stretching across my shoulders, the other wrapping around my stomach and her small hand resting upon my side.

_  
Here in the dark, in these lonely hours,  
I will lay down my heart and I'll feel the power..._

Stiff. Her arms were stiff and the affection in the gesture was forced, I could tell... but I didn't care. Suddenly, I became aware of everything. The feeling of slight weight upon my shoulders that had never been there before. The faint whispers of heat that radiated from her pale skin that permeated the materiel of my clothing. The weak pull of her fingers as she softly gripped the cloth of my jacket. The almost unperceptible pulsations of her pulse that I could detect upon my skin if I concentrated.

Then, when she decided to lean her beautiful head onto my shoulder, I noted even more; the soft and gentle feel of stray tendrils of her hair upon the bare flesh of my neck. The warm and comfortable way her head felt upon my shoulder. The rise and fall of her own shoulders when she breathed. The rather comforting and nice sensation of being held in someone else's arms... The sensation of being loved...

_  
But you won't, no you won't,  
'Cause I can't make you love me, if you don't..._

My breath caught in my throat. My chest heaved compulsively and I swallowed with difficulty as my air passage had knotted itself somehow... Resisting the impulse to throw my head back and sob with joy, I merely let the tears that had suddenly mounted to my eyes in torrents flow freely down my mangled cheeks, hidden, of course, by the mask. Letting out a saddened sigh of contentment, I let a small, knowing smile curl my lips.

Relaxing into the temporary sanctuary of beauty that were Christine's arms, I dared not move or even breathe too loudly or forcefully for fear that it would firghten away her embrace. I dared not even speak nor make any sound for fear of interrupting my brief moment of happiness. I dared not do anything but commit every single details of these moments to memory so that they would never leave me. Paint such loving descriptions of this moment in time with every detail that I could possibly catch so that this memory would not fade so easily... 

I'll close my eyes, then I won't see,  
The love you don't feel when you're holding me...

Closing my eyes tightly, I blocked out all thoughts that entered my mind from being registered and I forbade the pressure of sobs accumulating in my throat from being released. Closing my eyes, I chose not to see... I chose not to see the falseness of her embrace, the lie that she'd created for me... I chose not to see it just as I had chose not to see all of her forced affection toward me up until now...

"Oh, Christine..." I whispered sadly, a muffled sob escaping the confines of my throat and being set free into the cold, damp air.

_  
Morning will come and I'll do what's right,  
Just give me till then to give up this fight..._

She pulled back suddenly and I could feel her gaze upon my face through my closed eyelids. My eyes shut, I flinched and readied myself for her realization that she had just held a monster in her angelic arms...

"Erik?" she said softly, "Why are you crying?" she inquired compassionately and I felt her pose a gentle hand upon my slight shoulder,

Restraining myself from catching her beautiful hand and holding it in mine, her sweet, innocent words only made me cry harder, the pent-up emotions wracking through my body and causing it to convulse in pain. Annoyed from not being able to wipe away my own tears, I ripped away my mask and burried my hideous face into my hands, ashamed and wanting to spare her eyes from the sheer horror that was my unloved face...

_And I will give up this fight..._

I then felt her smooth, soft hands of dainty, delicate fingers, place themselves upon my own rotting, undeserving hands, grip them gently and slowly pry them away from my face. Obliging, I still stared forward, hardly daring to believe what she had just done and refraining from looking at her, tears falling down my mangled cheeks. "No, Erik," she breathed, almost inaudibly.

Still refusing to glance up, I whimpered against the tears and the painful leap that my heart gave everytime she pronouced my name. But, my breath caught in my throat as I felt the privilege of the silky flesh of her fingers take my chin and bring my unwilling eyes to meet her face.

_Cause I can't make you love me if you don't,  
You can't make your heart feel something it won't..._

I stared at her face. Her beautiful, beautiful face. Those curls of gold that spilt down her shoulders and flowed into sunny wisps. Those cheeks of pale rose dust that accentuated when she blushed. Those lips of light ruby that were set into a grim and acceting line, perhaps the slightest shadow of a smile upon those lips. Those eyes of those sweetest blue that I couldn't see, for those eyes were shut.

Perhaps it was my imagination, perhaps it was another betrayal of my traitorous mind, perhaps it was even real, but I think that I saw her put out her forehead the tiniest bit. Just the tiniest bit, the most minimal move of her head, a slight tilt of her neck, the smallest of movements, but it was there. It was there. I stared at her perfect forehead of creamy, unblemished skin longingly. What is it like to kiss a person?

_  
Here in the dark, in these lonely hours,  
I will lay down my heart and I'll feel the power..._

I inched forward. Just the slightest bit, just as she had done, my eyes never leaving that spot of porcelain flesh just above her brow. I moved in closer. Closer. My mind screamed at me to stop, to run away, to take her now and capture her taunting lips with mine, so many different things all at once; but they all went ignored. For once, I didn't listen to my cursed mind. I didn't listen to anything. It was all silent. I just continued to move closer.

She knew I was coming. When our faces grew closer in distance, I felt her freeze. But I did not stop. When she felt the breath of my chin close to her visage, her breath faltered. But I did not stop. When she felt my cold breath blow upon her blessed skin, I heard her stop breathing altogether. But I still did not stop.

My lips were now close, so close, to her forehead. I could smell the scent of her flesh, I could taste her aroma in my mouth, I could feel her smell intoxicate me and thoroughly stop the flow of my thoughts inside my head.

Then, I kissed her... for what I knew would be the last time.

_  
But you won't, no you won't,  
'Cause I can't make you love me, if you don't..._

**A/N: **Thank you for reading! It really means a lot to me. If there are any comments, questions, or compliments (or constructive criticism :)) I would love to hear them! Again, thank you very much for reading!


	3. Don't Cry Out Loud

**Disclaimer: **Once again, these characters don't belong to me... sigh

**Author's Note: **Hello dearest readers and a special thank you to IncarnationOfPureBeauty for reviewing every time that I've posted something. Thanks sweety! I'd really love a couple more reviews, they really would mean everything to me! Alright, enough begging. This chapter isn't a song fic, it is still a One Shot but not a song fic. This story is set when Christine is about thirteen or fourteen and she still believes that Erik is her Angel of Music. Just a little angsty chapter from my beloved Erik's POV. Enjoy!

_**Don't Cry Out Loud**_

"Angel? Angel?"

Christine bounded into the room. her chocolate brown curls bounced lively, catching the different shade warm shades of earth and hints of gold of her hair in the bright light of her dressing room. Her eyes of deep chesnut shone with excitement and a healthy flush glowed upon her flawless cheeks. Her rosy lips were curled into an expectant smile. allowing me a glimpse of her perfectly white teeth.

I gazed at her lovingly from behind the mirror, basking in her childlike, joyful radiance. A smile stole a place over my lips also, infectious as her own brilliant grin always was.

"Angel, are you here?" she asked, her wide eyes glancing around the room in anticipation, her broad smile slipping a few notches, the lack of my voice worrying her.

"I am here child," I murmured reassuringly, my low, rich voice escaping my throat, slipping from my lips, prolonging the lie I'd fabricated just to be in her presence...

Her jubilant smiel returned and her eyes sparkled with renewed vigour. She sighed, relieved, "Oh, Angel, I am always afraid that you will eventually have to leave someday and I will no longer hear your voice... It frightens me." she breathed, lowering her eyes sadly.

"I will never leave you, Christine," I replied, softening at her words, so concerned on my behalf. "I could never leave you..." I whispered merely to myself. She had no idea...

She immediately brightened and executed a graceful twirl out of happiness, the traces of her years as a ballerina apparent. Her ample, silken skirt swayed with the sudden motion of her body, flowing into elegant folds, hugging her every movement. "Oh, my Angel!" she exclaimed, "You will forever stay with me? I'll always have my Angel of Music?" she asked gaily, taking a small step toward wher I hid.

That is what she thought of me as, an Angel, a perfect, unattainable being, blessed and divine, too good for her... Never. I was beneath her, I was worthless. Nothing. A forgotten creature of the shadows, shunned from the light. She was the Angel, she was my unattainable and perfect being, blessed and divine, too good for me.

I couldn't have her. I never could. Yet I didn't want to be an Angel to her... I wanted to be a man. What I wouldn't give to be able to hold her, to caress her face, just be next to her... I couldn't. I knew that I couldn't. She would discover that I had deceived her, lied to her and tricked her. Taken advantage of her trusting nature merely for my own happiness. To see the hurt I knew would gleam in her lovely eyes would destroy me. Her pain would become my own and I would increase it tomake me suffer more than she.

She wouldn't understand. She wouldn't understand my need to see her everyday. The need to hear her sweet, angelic voice bless my ears. The need for her to aknowledge my existence, for that was the most dear treasure of my poor, miserable life. She talked to me, she smiled at the thought of her Angel, she cared for her Angel of Music... If I could be an Angel to her, if that was how she wished to know me... so be it. At least I could be something to her... Someone. That was all that I wanted.

"I will forever stay with you, Christine," I told her, hoping against all hopes that I could be there for evevrytime in her life that she needed me. "I will try my best..." I muttered softly, closing my emerald eyes briefly, trying to quell the ascent of those recurring, troubled tears.

"You sound sad, Angel," she said compassionately, tilting her dainty head slightly to one side, her smile being replaced by a concerned look as she walked slowly toward the mirror.

I opened my eyes swiftly, surprised at her keen observation. Had my voice faltered? Had I aroused her suspicions? Could she pick out where my voice came from? Pushing back my insignificant emotions, I tried to chase away any traces of grief from my voice, "Why do you say that, child?" I asked, praying that any brief traces of sadness that may have appeared in my voice had not upset her.

She reached the mirror and began scanning it's glassy surface. Of course, all she could see was her own reflection, but I was in the process, allowed the sight of her face so near. Her eyes searched in vain, a curious, almost knowing look occupying her young eyes. "I just... I only thought... Oh, I don't know..." she admitted, not finishing any of her begun sentences, just a dissapointed pause concluding them for her.

She then placed a timid hand upon the mirror, her palm pressing into the glass, inquisitive, it rested there as she seemed to stare directly at me.

I froze and suddenly forgot how to breathe. I simply stood there, my eyes never leaving her face, desire and love making every fiber in my body ache. Her ethereal beauty astounded me. Slowly, I brought up a gloved hand and began to free my cold fingers from the confines of the black leather. Dropping the glove to the stone floor, I raised my deathly pale, thin hand to the mirror and placed my palm to the exact spot as hers.

So close but yet so very far. Only a wall of glass seperating the feel of her fingertips upon mine. Only the barrier of impossibility seperating me from my Angel. Only the obstacle of reality seperating me from love.

I pressed my hand to the cold, hard surface, flattening my palm against the reflective substance, desperately trying to feel the sensation of her skin. I could almost imagine it. Perhaps I would feel warmth, a certain soothing softness to the creamy flesh the kissed her delicate fingers. Perhaps a silky smoothness to caress my own hand. I didn't know. I could only imagine. Only live with fantasies. Lies. Dreams. The whisper of her flesh upon my own was there... It was almost there... Almost.

Her eyes bored blindly into mine, her hans unknowingly graced my own. For a flicker of a second, I felt her close and she felt me also.

A delirious smile illuminated my lips as I gazed at her breathlessly. Subconsciouly, I leaned forward, just wishing to see her closer. I was drawn toward her stunning face. My breathing came in short gasps, my entire body trembled with the combined effect of so many emotions coursing though me all at once, my skeletal limbs shaking beneath my layers of midnight clothing blending my thin form to the darkness of the tunnel.

She gave a defeated sigh and leaned the right side of her face against the mirror, her cheek now resting upon the cool glass. "Sometimes," she whispered, "I think that I can almost feel you there, Angel. Behind this mirror. Sometimes you seem so close... Sometimes I could swear you were here... Are you there, Angel?" she murmured with the ghost of a smile upon her inviting lips.

Her face... so close... the temptation so intense stole over any little bit of sanity I now possessed. The pale, porcelain skin pressed ever so lightly upon my shield of glass ate away at all my remaining resolve.

What was it like to kiss a person? What is it like to receive a kiss a person, I wonder? For my lips to caress, touch the foregn sensation of someone else's skin beneath my lips? For someone else's lips to meet my ugly, deformed, unloved skin? To feel their foreign snesation upon my horrid flesh?

Some dismiss it as a regularity, an overused gesture, a common sign of affection, never respecting it's importance and value. It's greater significance of undying love now becoming a meaningless, thoughtless action. They are so accustomed to something as wonderful as a kiss daily. I have never given a kiss nor received one. How can they abuse the privilege of a kiss when I have been denied it's splendour my whole life?

Shyly and hesitantly, I leaned forward even further than before, growing closer to her cheek resting against her reflection. I hovered there for a few moments, milimetres away from her face. Never had I ever seen her this close. I soaked in her every exquisite detail, feeding my longing heart with these soon to become cherished memories of her every feature. Nurturing the growing fire of love in my soul, strengthening the embers of adoration kept dormant for so long. Then, I closed my eyes and inched my lips closer and closer still to her perfect cheek, my heart beating wildly in anticipation for any form of this so loved action...

"Christine!"

A harsh knock at the door broke the peaceful atmosphere of the temporary Heaven we'd created and that had reigned over us in those moments of of ease and acceptance. Understanding had inhabited the room and for moments of time, I'd belonged to her world.

Christine quickly stood up straight, tearing her face and hand away from the mirror hurriedly, also tearing away yet another piece of my heart in the process. My entire heart was now in her possession. I was completely hers. I loved her.

A panicked expression overcame her gorgeous traits, but she kept her back turned, her eyes still staring at the mirror nonetheless. "Y-Yes?" she stammered in a high-pitched voice.

"Is... someone in there with you?" asked the voice that I recognized as her best friend Meg's, a fellow member of the corps de ballet, from behind her locked door. "I thought I heard you speaking to someone."

"Nobody, Meg," she answered, reassuring her friend. She then looked down at her left hand that had been resting upon the mirror and stroked the skin of her palm curiously with the fingers of her right, gazing at her hand with a puzzled look. Looking up at the mirror and staring through the veil of glass into my solitude, she whispered once more, "Nobody..."

But I couldn't her her angelic voice for I was too preoccupied with the despairing sobs escaping my throat as I slid to the damp, stone ground and slammed my worthless forehead against the evil truth of that mirror...

**A/N: **This was written quite a while ago so if it wasn't all that good, I'm sorry. I liked it at the time and re-writing it, I'm not sure if I quite like it as much... I'll leave it up to your good judgement though... Read and review please:) Love you guys!


	4. And Many More

**Disclaimer:** Once again, all of these wonderful characters do not belong to me... Unfortunately.

**Author's Note: **Yet another non-songfic. Not E/C either. Why read it you ask? Because it boasts major Erik angst. Set on a supposed to be happy day, a bitter Erik reflects and thinks. Quite short, but I really do like this one... He hasn't met Christine yet and he is around the age of 18 or 20.

**And Many More**

I despise this wretched day.

Angered and frustrated, I slammed my fingers onto random black and white ivory keys of the pipe organ, creating an awful dissaray of disjointed chords and emitting a loud agonized wail of the intrument. Trying to vent my frustration though unable to bear the horrid sound of the of the notes together and hating to torture the organ, I wrenched my hands away, killing the pained screech and whirling violently around on the swiveling bench, fuming.

It isn't fair. It just isn't fair.

Raising myself roughly and quickly, I kicked the wooden seat backward, the stiff legs scraping fiercely across the floor, echoing and reverberating around the high, rocky ceiling,I seized my tentative sheets of music and flung them bitterly away. The helpless parchment fluttered away having been thrown with such force, sliding gracefully to the stone ground despite such a rough rejection.

I began to stride purposefully back and forth across the room, pacing furiously, fists clenched, teeth gritted, and eyebrows furrowed, my emerald eyes flashing.

Why does this day have to exist? Why must it live while it kills me with the awful knowledge that it brings? For it is the truth. Plain, simple, and painful. Truth. Stating what is real. Stating what I don't want to see. Contradicting what I have made real for myself. Truth. As painful as can be alie, but with a lie, it is blissful up until the truth; so sometimes lies serve us better and are kinder than is truth.

This day only reinforces the honesty of what I know. It only resurfaces the thoughts of what I am, what I've come to be, what I'll always be, and what I've always been. This day, rejoiced for all else who celebrates it, only in the reverse for me. Curse the day of my birth...

_... "Today is your Birthday, Erik," said my mother coldly, her blank, emotionless stare fixed ahead, averting her gaze from me._

_I fidgeted nervously in my seat across from her at the table. Her voice, usually clouded by anger or frustration, was surprisingly calm and it disconcerted me slightly. Afraid to disturb her placid mood, I chose to remain silent, intertwining my pale fingers uncomfortably._

_"You don't know what that is, do you?" she asked, still in her cool, almost distracted tone._

_I shook my head slowly, for fear of upsetting my mask perhced upon my face, knowing very well that if anything, the sight of my entire face would flare her temper, choosing to still not use my voice._

_"Answer me, boy," she snapped, showing a breach in her collected demeanor, her restrained persona obviously forced._

_Realizing she wouldn't have been able to see my negative response as her eyes were directed away from me, I mumbled a tentative, "No," glancing up curiously._

_"A Birthday, Erik," she began, regaining the nonchalant look and tone she'd adopted earlier, "is the day you were born. People celebrate it and receive gifts and such in celebration," all told in a flat manner._

_Nevertheless, my interest was sparked and I let my hopes up again. Sitting up straighter and looking at my mother, hoping to possibly ctach her gaze, I considered the thought that she perhaps had decided to love me at last._

_"Today is my Birthday?" I inquired, the word feeling bizarre rolling off my tongue, the syllables rusty and unused. "Are... we going to celebrate it? Am I... to get presents?" My excitement perking up, a smile began to form on my lips._

_"No, Erik," she affirmed, her simple sentence extinguishing my candle of brief happiness. A cold breeze blowing across my hopeful, foolish heart._

_My face fell swiftly and tears began to well in my eyes, the salty orbs pricking teasingly at the base of my iris', "W-Why not?" I questionned, dissapointed and heartbroken, my voice wavering under the painful truth that for a moment, I thought that she'd perhaps loved me..._

_Her face sealed up, her features stony and harsh. Her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth was set into a grom line._

_"Because I don't care, Erik."_

Her words forever etched in my memory echoed teasingly in my head, repeating that sentence that chipped away at my heart but that I knew to be true.

Nobody cared. Not a soul on the entire face of this earth knew of my existence, let alone felt anything toward me. I was alone. Completely alone in every sense of the damned word. Why should they care? They had no reason to spare any affection on my part. What had I done to deserve anyone's love? For I have been born unworthy of all who are blessed with the privilege of the sun's warmth welcoming their entire face. I have been deemed too lowly a creature to dwell amongst those who know not the crushing pain of eternal solitude and who never shall have to. I am different.

I was a mistake, am an imperfection, will always be a flaw.

The day I was born is the day I wish I had never come to be. To me, it was just another day that meant another year gone. Another year alone. Another year that brought me closer to death. Another year unloved...

My rage metamorphose into pain, my intrinsic turmoil switching my mood at it's own pace, uncaring. My anger transformed into tears, hot, burning tears of hate and and rejection, of longing and jealousy... every human emotion to have ever existed had been experienced and tested upon my heart...

... All those except love.

Falling to my knees, I surrendered to a momentary weakness, my resolve dissolving, my pride crumbling...

Was it so crazy a thought that I wanted someone to care?

Throughout the nights beneath the Opera House, melodies of lush, grand scale; tunes of heart-wrenching, poingant sound; or songs of agonized, tortured notes usually floated up throughout the building. Snaking their way through walls, permeating through the musty air, echoing across the corridors, and sometimes drifting to the stage and through the audience, barely more than a whisper. Music from a certain subterranian abode by an unknown lake somehow broke free from it's prison and roamed about the expectant halls and rooms of the world above.

But tonight, a different song was carried throughout the grand edifice. This one not carried via an instrument but through means of an angelic voice, weighed an drenched down by that torment that kept the ethereal yet tainted being to this world.

The Angel sang... but it could be no angel; for Angels knew not of sadness...

_"Happy Birthday to me... Happy Birthday to me... Happy Birthday, dear Erik... Happy Birthday to me..."_

But the lyrics were lost to darkness, for not a soul heard, not cared.

**A/N: **Hope you liked. I really do feel for him.. I love his character... I just love Erik. Poor guy... Please do review! They mean ever so much to me! Constructive criticism, anything! Would love to hear from you!


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